


An Empty Case of Knives

by morgay



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgay/pseuds/morgay
Summary: When Dexter returns after being missing for a month, Deb tries to piece together his experience. Unfortunately, she comes out finding something much deeper and darker than she’d ever expected.**On hiatus





	An Empty Case of Knives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is basically an alternate ending to season 5. Jordan Chase kidnaps both Dexter and Lumen, holds them hostage, rapes them both several times, and eventually kills Lumen. A few days later Dexter escapes.

Debra let her legs crumble underneath her like loose strings. She pushed her brown hair back, squinting up at the glimmering reflection of the pool streaking across Dexter’s apartment. She clenched her fingers, hands beginning to shake, and that familiar feeling of grief and terror and anger pulsed deep inside.

“Where the fuck are you, Dex?” she whispered, voice soft and broken as it scratched against her throat. She slumped her arms over her knees as she positioned herself on the stump of the recently cut tree, roots spilling out beneath her feet. Deb felt a burning pressure behind her eyelids and she groaned, clawing at her face in an attempt to rid herself of those feelings.

Dexter had been gone a month. No note, no voicemail, and absolutely no trace — just gone. As if he’d never even existed. Debra squinted her eyes shut and focused on her labored breathing. Every day was a struggle. She wasn’t accustomed to being away from her brother — he was everything to her. Deb.... she shared all her shit with him. He somehow knew how to comfort her, even through his weird, geeky awkwardness.

She laughed at the thought, but it soon turned into a soft sob. Deb buried her face in her clenched hands and let her shoulders sag, the weight of the world truly settling in. Not only was she fucking _Lieutenant_ now, but she also had Joey and Harrison to deal with. After Dexter’s disappearance, Deb had decided to take her nephew in — at least until her brother returned. The last thing she’d expected was for fuckin’ _Quinn_ to absolutely fall for Dex’s kid.

I mean, yeah, Deb didn’t blame him. Harrison was cute as _shit_, but she couldn’t help the weird, prickling sensation when seeing the two together. She wanted to say, ‘You’re not his dad — just leave him alone,’ but Deb would never dare. She wasn’t sure she really meant it, anyway, but still... it hurt. 

It wasn’t only her that had been grieving, though. Masuka and Batista were the worst — they’d been a huge help in Deb’s manhunt for her brother, but of course, they ended up with no leads, and thus no real case. LaGuerta was being relatively generous, but still felt the need to wave her dick around by _politely_ asking for Deb to close the case. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be polite, and that would turn into an order.

Debra dreaded that day.

Now, here she was, all alone out in the world while Joey and Harrison shared some quality bonding time back at the house. She went out for a run every night — it helped clear her head and sharpen her senses. Deb wouldn’t ever admit that she passed by Dexter’s apartment every time, but to be honest, she had this naive, childlike hope that her brother would walk out of the door and wave to her, as if nothing had ever happened.

That image brought tears to her eyes. Deb stifled a sob into the palm of her hand, curling in on herself. _Maybe I could’ve done something. Maybe I could’ve helped him sooner._ Deb knew in her heart that Dex wasn’t.... wasn’t _gone_. He would never leave her, never leave _Harrison_, and it’s not like he had many other places to go. He was taken — something had to have happened to him, because Deb simply didn’t have any other explanation.

All she knew was that he wasn’t.... wasn’t _dead_. That’s all that mattered. As long as he was living and breathing, all would be okay.

Debra wasn’t sure how long she’d stilled in her position, glassy eyes trained on Dex’s apartment door, but the flash of a shadow in her peripheral vision shook her out of her trance. Deb immediately ducked down, letting the darkness of the night swallow her, and crawled belly-first into the bushes to her left. Deb made sure to stay as silent as possible, narrowing her eyes through the brush, trying to make out what she was seeing.

Something moved through the shadows — a person. Deb could immediately tell that something was wrong from the dip in their posture every time they took a step, from the wavering body frame that seemed to sway back and forth every few moments. _They’re limping. They’re hurt._ Deb instinctively dropped her hand to her holster, except she wasn’t wearing her belt, and she didn’t have her gun. Right. She was off-duty.

_Shit_, Deb thought with a deep frown. The person didn’t seem to be dangerous, unless they were some kind of psychopath trying to lure people out into the open to murder, but she was going to take her chances. Years of training could provide for a little self-defense, yeah? Sighing softly, Deb stood up and paused, watching the shadow carefully. “Hey.” The person froze in place, blanketed under the shadow of the apartment complex. “It’s okay,” she said slowly, taking careful steps forward. “I’m a police officer. Are you okay?”

There was either a sigh of relief or a breath of resignation that came from the shadow, but Deb felt herself tensing immediately. She was a woman, unguarded and blocked from view. _I have to be smart about this._ Deb backed away slowly, pushing her hands out in a non-threatening manner. “I’m just moving towards the light so I can see you. Will you follow me?” 

The person didn’t move.

“_Please_?” she pressed.

There was clear hesitation before the shadow staggered forward. Deb could hear the scrape of a shoe sliding against the ground, the shaky breaths of the person. A nearby light pole dipped and sprayed droplets of yellow across the person, revealing —

“Holy shit,” Debra said loudly. “Holy shit. Holy fucking mother of fuck! Dex!” She nearly landed forward on him, so caught off guard that she couldn’t even believe it. She began to laugh, giggles rising in her throat, and she couldn’t help herself. “Oh, thank.... thank God you’re o.. okay....” Deb trailed off slowly and her eyes widened, taking in the sight of her brother.

He hardly seemed to recognize her. His usually muscular, sturdy frame had been sharpened by an uncharacteristic skinniness that she’d only seen in Dexter as a teenager. His eyes were sunken back and hollow, gaze cloudy and unfocused. She clamped a hand over her mouth at the large cut curving along his eyebrow down to his left ear, splitting open the skin to reveal a deep, ugly red wound.

“Oh, fuck— Dex—” The glee was replaced by something akin to horror. Deb observed his slightly twisted foot and saw the trail of blood behind him. Now that she looked, she could make out mottled purple and black bruises lacing his arms and throat, as well as the crimson soaking his unbuttoned gray shirt. “Holy.... holy shit.... what happened?” Her voice felt foreign, words catching in her throat. What the fuck did she do? Call for backup? Call an ambulance?

Shit. Dex didn’t even _look_ at her. He was definitely out of it. Muttering a curse under her breath, Deb reached for her phone. She froze when her brother flinched, and she could suddenly hear her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears. _He just flinched. Dexter just flinched._ Deb was sure that in the entire time she’d known her brother, he had never once startled from quick hand movements. This didn’t even feel like Dexter.

“Just.... fuck. One second.” She held out a finger and dialed the number, praying to God that Joey answered his phone for once in his fucking lifetime. “Come on.... come on...”

The ringtone gurgled for a moment before a clear voice came out on the other side. “Hello? Deb?”

“Joey,” she breathed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“I...” Deb shook her head to herself. “Look, are you at home? Where’s Harrison?”

“Jamie’s watching him. I had to go get some groceries. Um.” A pause. “Yeah, do you need me? Is something wrong?”

“It’s—” She took another step back away from Dexter, but he was so disoriented she was pretty sure he couldn’t hear a thing. “It’s Dexter.”

Silence.

“He.... I came by his apartment, and I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and—” Deb found she could hardly breathe all of a sudden. “Fuck, Joey, please just come. He’s— he’s hurt, and he doesn’t even know who I am, please—” Her voice broke.

“I’m coming.” With that, he hung up the phone.

How fucking romantic.

Deb pushed her phone into her pocket and took careful, deliberate steps toward Dexter. She didn’t want to spook him, and certainly hadn’t missed the shining glint of a knife stuffed in the back of his jeans. _If he doesn’t even know who I am.... how do I know he won’t attack me?_ Deb wasn’t necessarily scared, because she knew her brother would never deliberately hurt her, but she wanted to stay cautious. On guard. Especially until Quinn arrived. 

“Dex,” she whispered, breaking the tense silence. Deb watched him, observed the way his eyes flickered, some form of life writhing beneath them. Her heart leapt when he raked his gaze over to her. “Yeah. H-hey.” Fuck her voice for stuttering. She _wasn’t_ scared. Hell, in his state.... she could probably overpower him. “It’s me. Deb. Your.... your sister..?”

Dexter didn’t respond. He stared at her and began to shake. “Harrison,” he whispered. Deb hardly heard it, but when she did, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. _Oh, thank fuck he remembers!_ She’d almost been convinced he had amnesia or something. 

“Yeah. Harrison.” She laughed softly, taking another step forward. Dex didn’t flinch this time, thankfully. “I’ve been watching him. You know who I am, right?”

Her brother apparently tried to speak — she could see his muscles move, but no voice emitted from his lips — so she took the liberty of making it easier. “Just... nod, or shake your head. That might be easier.”

Dexter slowly nodded, regarding her with a cautious gaze.

“Good.” Deb smiled — _truly_ smiled — and shuffled a little closer. He didn’t seem to notice much. “You have a knife in your back pocket, right?” Dex looked at her, eyes widening, but he nodded slowly. “I don’t think you need it anymore. Would you mind giving it to me? I swear, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I- I know.” Dex’s voice came out almost immediately. It sounded so guttural and raw that it raked against Debra’s ears, like someone had just scratched their nails down a chalkboard. “Deb...” He tried to smile, but it seemed to pain him enough that he winced. _Shit. His forehead..._

She stared at the cut with worry, then returned her gaze to meet his. Deb hesitated. He didn’t seem to want to cooperate with the whole knife situation. “Look, whatever happened, I swear you’re safe now. I’m here, and Quinn is on the way-”

He made a face.

“-and we’re going to help you. But we can’t do that if you’re hiding a weapon. So please give me the knife. I swear, I won’t do anything.” She could recognize the own terror in her voice, and wondered if Dexter could hear it too. Probably.

There was a thread of silence as she watched Dexter. He couldn’t meet her gaze, eyes instead flickering side to side, seemingly calculating if he could reach the stairs before she dragged him back. _Why is he so on edge?_ She hadn’t seen her brother like this since Dad died. 

“Dex,” she said, adding a little more force to her voice.

He seemed to crumple completely, shoulders slumping. Dexter nodded quickly and reached his hand into his pocket, sliding the glinting silver knife out, observing the shine of the blade. Deb hesitated then leaned forward, letting her brother set it carefully in her hands. She puffed out a relieved breath, taking a small step back and throwing the weapon into the bushes a few feet away. She didn’t need it, and neither did he. Quinn would be arriving soon, anyway.

“Eugh...” He groaned suddenly and palmed at his face, swaying slightly. Deb’s eyes widened and she lunged forward, catching his shoulders so he wouldn’t pass out. 

“Hey. Hey, let’s just.... sit.” She steered him toward the stairs, letting him sit down. Dexter breathed raggedly, fingers clenching as he gripped his hair. Deb felt her worry only grow — he wasn’t okay, but she had absolutely no idea how to help him. _I hope I’m not doing the wrong thing by calling Joey in. He can help...Dex probably doesn’t want to be surrounded by cops right now, anyway. And he especially won’t want to go to a hospital._ God. If only her brother could be a little less fucking stubborn.

“I’m sorry,” Dexter croaked.

Deb froze as she sat beside him, whole body tensing up. She tilted her head to look at him, not bothering to hide the surprise written all over her face. “Y-you what?” she stuttered.

“I’m... sorry.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, creasing his brows. “I.... didn’t mean to disappear like that. How’s H-Harrison?”

Deb smiled softly, trying to relax her nerves through this horribly fucked-up situation. “Good,” she said. “Jaime is watching him right now. He’s been...” She bit her lip, hesitating. “He’s been wondering where you were.”

Dexter frowned, eyelids slowly cracking open to gaze forward, not meeting Deb’s gaze. “We can tell him I took a... a vacation,” he suggested slowly. 

Deb stilled, staring at her brother. “Dex,” she whispered.

He ignored her. “It was just a week-long trip to... to another town for some work stuff, whatever. It doesn’t matter, as long as he knows I’m not _gone_....” He trailed off.

She really couldn’t tell if Dexter was blowing this off or if he truly didn’t know how long he’d been missing. “Dex,” she repeated quietly. He looked at her. “You’ve been gone for a month.”

He didn’t move for a moment. His shoulders tensed and his stance grew rigid, like a deer caught in headlights. “Wh-what?”

“It hasn’t been a week.” Her voice tumbled in her throat and that familiar burning sensation built up behind her eyes, threatening to spill. Deb was sure her heart was breaking. Was Dexter so out of it that he didn’t even know the date? “F-fuck, Dex.” She wiped her hands down her face, stressed. “What the fuck h-happened? Where _were_ you?”

Dexter quickly shook his head away, curling in on himself. His brown hair fell in front of his face, dirty and matted. He curled his fingers around his knees, knuckles turning white from the pressure. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of _course_ it matters!” Deb’s voice rose and she had to do a double take. Was Dexter serious? He’d been missing for a fucking _month_. He obviously wasn’t taking a goddamn vacation to the Bahamas! “Tell me what happened! Were you— were you kidnapped?”

“Deb,” he murmured, screwing his eyes shut. His breathing grew louder and heavier, like he was seeing something in the darkness under his eyelids that Deb couldn’t. It broke her into a million pieces. “S-stop. Don’t. I can’t....” He shook his head, beginning to tremble.

“Dexter...” Her voice trailed off. She had absolutely no idea what to say. Relying on instincts alone, Deb pushed herself into his side, connecting their bodies. She made a move to wrap her arms around his neck, attempting to pull him into a hug. Deb cried out when Dex’s hand shot forward, snapping her away from his body. He shuddered from her touch and stumbled away from the steps, hunching over and vomiting in the grass. Deb watched, eyes watering. Horror. That’s all she could feel. _What the fuck?_

Dexter’s legs fell beneath him, unable to hold his weight. Deb didn’t waste any time throwing herself forward, hesitating. Could she touch him? “Dex,” she said. He didn’t look at her. “_Dex_.”

He turned his head to her.

“Can I touch you?” she tried.

Dex quickly shook his head. 

_Fuck._ “O-okay,” she breathed, screwing her eyes shut for a moment. Deb had absolutely no idea how to help him. “What can I do? Do you want to go inside the apartment? That might help-”

“I need to.... I...” Dexter’s breathing cut off and he choked on his breath, trying to stand but throwing himself off balance, stumbling into the grass as he fell back. “I.... need _air_—”

“Okay, okay.” She placed her hands out in retreat. “That’s fine- that’s fine, okay?”

Dexter nodded slowly, relaxing slightly. She watched him closely, the way his eyes darted from side to side, scanning the area like a spooked animal. He pushed his hands into the grass, tugging some weeds out of the earth. 

Deb let herself drop to the ground, scooting a little closer. The moon poked itself out from behind a cloud, splattering pale silver light on to her brother. She tensed at the bruises marring his skin, clouds of purple and black denting his throat and chest. _What the fuck happened to you, Dexter?_ Shaking her head, Deb wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them close to her chest. 

They waited for what felt like hours before headlights flashed in Deb’s vision. She turned her head to the side, accidentally spooking Dexter. “Hey. It’s fine.” She looked at him, smiling softly. “It’s just Quinn. I’m gonna go meet him over there.”

Dexter stared at her and eventually nodded, hesitantly dropping his guard.

Deb hummed thoughtfully, pushing herself to her feet and striding over to where Joey had parked. He practically threw himself out of the car, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but you’re late as fuck,” she grumbled. Joey padded over to her, brows furrowing. Deb breathed out and leaned into his warmth, beginning to tremble.

“What happened? Is Dexter here?” Quinn asked, relaxing his grip around her.

“Over there.” She forced the tears back down. She wouldn’t cry, not right now. Deb took a few steps back, looking over to where Dexter was sitting on the ground. Joey followed her gaze and stopped, breath hitching.

“That’s-” He stumbled over his words. “That’s Dexter...?”

Deb didn’t respond for a moment. “Yeah,” was all she could make out, controlling her voice so it didn’t break. 

“He looks....” He shook his head, eyes darkening. “_Bad_, Deb. I mean, what the fuck happened? He’s been gone for a month. Did he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” she said, growing slightly defensive. Joey gave her a look and she faltered. “Sorry, I just... I don’t know. We need to get him the fuck inside, though.”

“Deb, you need to call dispatch,” he said, frowning. “Is he hurt?”

“....Yes.”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you alert the station?” Quinn demanded, an edge to his voice.

“Because he- Dexter hates the hospital! Maybe he’s... maybe he’s not even hurt that bad. You haven’t seen him up close.” She wiped a palm down her face. _He shouldn’t see him up close....he looks worse than he does from over here._

“So? He’s your fuckin’ brother, get him some help, Deb!” He scowled and crossed his arms. “This is insane.”

“I know!” she snapped. “You think I wanted to deal with this tonight? No, but here we are.”

Joey didn’t reply for a moment. “At least he’s alive..”

Deb turned on him, glaring. “Oh, thanks for the fuckin’ optimism!” she growled.

“God- he’s _breathing_, isn’t that what matters most?”

“Not if he’s—” Deb waved her arms. “Out of it!”

Quinn stared at her. “The fuck you mean, _out of it_?”

_Ugh...._ She opened her mouth to retort but stopped when she noticed Dexter staggering to his feet, gripping the railing as he slowly dragged himself up the stairs. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she swore, running toward her brother. Deb reached his side and touched his shoulder, forgetting about... well.

Dexter’s whole body flinched and he whirled around, hand wrapping around her throat. Deb stopped breathing for a moment, staring into his eyes. He paused then let her go, eyes wide. She sucked in a gulp of air, staggering to the side and coughing hoarsely.

“What the fuck?!” Quinn snarled as he marched up to the scene, spit flying from his mouth. “Are you fucking insane?!”

“J-_Joey_-” she groaned, trying to suck in air. 

“What?” he snapped. “He- he hurt you!” Quinn shot a nasty look at Dexter, who slid to the ground, halfway up the steps. 

“I startled him,” she said weakly.

“So?!” Quinn exhaled thickly and eyed her with worry “Babe... are you _sure_ this is the right call?”

She took a moment to respond. “Yes,” she eventually said, looking at him. He had to understand.

A small, frail whine drew both Deb and Joey’s attention to Dexter. He was on the ground, head buried in his hands, fingers running through his hair. His shoulders shook as he wailed into his palms. Joey stared, wide-eyed. His face paled instantly when he took in how horrible Dexter look. 

“Dex,” Deb said, voice breaking. Tears flecked her eyes and she dropped down next to him, making sure not to make any physical contact. “What...” She shook her head. She was so _confused_. “What the fuck _happened_, Dexter?”

Dex didn’t respond. Deb hated that she couldn’t comfort him. Why wouldn’t he let her touch him?! At least a fucking hug!

“Deb,” Quinn whispered. She eyed him and followed his gaze, stilling when she noticed the deep red cuts and bruises cuffing his wrists. _Fucking handcuffs_.. Deb was pretty sure she was going to be sick. 

“_Dexter_,” she said, tone more demanding. He’d stopped wailing, but he still wouldn’t meet either of their gazes. “Tell. Me. What. Happened.” Debra felt a surge of protectiveness. If someone had hurt him.... fuck. She wasn’t sure what she’d do.

Dexter shook his head, turning his head away. 

“Dexter,” Joey tried, voice softening. He crouched down in front of him, gaze unwavering. “You need to tell us what happened. You’ve been gone for a long time — everyone was looking for you. We were worried. And now you show up... like _this_...”

“Quinn,” Deb growled lowly. Wow, way to make her brother feel like a fucking champ.

And her boyfriend ignored her. Wonder-fucking-ful. “Look, whatever you tell us, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. You know that, right?”

Dexter nodded slowly, looking down at his feet.

“Good.” Quinn smiled. “Now.. just tell us what happened.”

There was a long thread of silence that only worked Deb’s nerves more. She just wanted to know what was going on with her brother.

“Jordan Chase,” was all he said.

“_Jordan Chase_?” Deb spluttered. That was absolutely the _last_ thing she’d ever expected

Joey looked at Deb, eyes darkening. “He went missing after your disappearance,” he said, turning back to Dexter. “Where did he take you?”

Dexter didn’t respond.

Deb didn’t know what to say. Her voice caught in her throat, and she suddenly couldn’t see clearly. Tears warped her vision and she sucked in a deep breath of air. Who knew what horrors Dexter had faced in the past month? “We should get him to the apartment,” she said softly.

Joey nodded. “Okay.” He stood up slowly. “Think he’ll let us touch him?”

“I don’t know.” Deb crouched. “Dex, can we help you to the apartment?”

His gaze was clouded, like he was elsewhere. He blinked, suddenly back in the present, and quickly shook his head. “I— I can.” He gripped the railing, knuckles turning white, and lifted himself to his feet. Deb followed suit, exchanging a glance with Joey before following. Dex’s foot dragged slightly, and seeing the crimson stains painted across her brother’s shirt physically _hurt_ her.

Dexter seemed to be fine without support, however, and made it to the door with little trouble. Deb slipped the key out of her pocket— yes, she’d been keeping it, fucking sue her— and clicked it into the door, opening it and letting her brother stumble inside. The apartment looked the same as he’d left it.

“Just... sit down.” Deb motioned toward the untouched couch. “I’ll get you a water.” She let Joey lead her brother into the living room and opened the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. She poured it into a cup, threw some ice inside, and handed it to Dexter. He could hardly hold it without spilling he was trembling so badly, but gulped it down in a matter of seconds. Water dripped from his chin and he exhaled thickly, running his fingers through his pale ginger-brown hair. Everything went silent.

Deb still had questions. She wanted to know everything that had happened— where had he been taken? What happened while Dex was there? How had he escaped? Why was he so injured? Where was Jordan Chase? She closed her eyes and forced herself to focus. _Only one question at a time._ “So...” She wrung her hands together. Joey looked at her. “Dex, what... what happened?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “That’s a broad question,” he eventually grumbled.

“Where’s Jordan Chase?”

Dexter stiffened and looked her in the eyes, gaze suddenly ice cold. It sent shivers down Debra’s spine. “Dead,” he spat.

“_Dead_?” Joey echoed, eyes wide. “Did..” he frowned. “Did you kill him?”

“_Joey_,” Deb snapped. Why the fuck had he asked _that_ of all things?

Dexter shook his head, anyway. “No. He... he was trying to make a trade.” His voice grew clearer, most likely from the water that now drenched his throat. “The guy blindsided him... stuck a knife in his back. Chase fell on me, I already had one free hand so I took his key and unlocked the padlock. Swept the other guy’s feet out then made a run for it.”

“Where were you?” Deb whispered, horrified. _Padlock?_ Did that mean he’d been _chained_?

His gaze flickered uncertainly. “Some warehouse. I don’t remember exactly. His guys were after me and I ran as fast as I could. I’m surprised I made it this far — must have been on adrenaline alone.”

She wiped a hand down her face, beginning to shake. “Dex— Dex, this is _big_. You were... you were gone for a month. What else happened?”

Her brother stared at her. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Dexter narrowed his eyes.

“You were chained,” Joey observed, pointing to the ringed bruises clouding Dexter’s wrists. He dropped his long-sleeve shirt down, covering the dented skin. “I don’t think it was nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said evenly.

“Of _course_ it matters!” Deb exclaimed. How did he think this was okay? “You have fucking blood all over you—”

“Jordan Chase’s blood,” Dexter said. “Not mine.”

“—you were chained, probably dehydrated, starved, I mean, look at you, Dexter! You’re as pale and thin as the fucking Ghost of Christmas Future!”

He didn’t respond, or even bother to _look_ at either of them. It simultaneously pissed Debra off and worried her immensely. 

“_Dex_,” she pressed desperately.

“I think I want to go to sleep,” he said softly.

Joey narrowed his eyes. “You know we have to call this in, right? LaGuerta will want a full report, and I know Batista and Masuka are going to freak the fuck out now that you’re back. We can’t just hide this from them.”

“We’re not _hiding_ it,” Dexter snapped harshly, glaring at Joey. He rolled his shoulders forward and paused. “Look, there’s— there’s really nothing wrong with me, if you guys back me up in a story—”

“A _story_?” Deb hissed.

“Look, if I report back everything that happened, I won’t be able to work for another month at least. I really just—” He laughed anxiously. “I really just can’t do that. I need to work, especially for Harrison.”

Deb and Joey exchanged a glance. She looked back at him with a hardened, sharp gaze. “Okay. We’re going to talk about this on the porch.” She motioned to Quinn and herself. “You stay here or....change, or something.”

Dexter didn’t respond.

When they made it outside, Debra shut the door behind her. She puffed out a thick breath and leaned on the metal railing, arms hanging over, fingers curling. She watched the rhythmic splash of light from the pool below. It calmed her down, just slightly.

“Deb?” Joey asked, looking at her with a frown.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her voice came out flat and drawn. 

Quinn was quiet. He scratched his chin and looked out over the ocean. “We can’t keep this a secret. You know that, at least.”

“I know.” Deb ran her fingers through her hair. “But what do we say? Dexter clearly doesn’t want to go to the hospital, and doesn’t want to have an examination, either.”

Joey sighed. “He may have to, Deb. We can’t say whether or not he’s safe, or judge if any of his injuries are serious.”

She looked down and groaned. “God, this is a fucking mess.” Silence thickened between the couple. Deb wasn’t sure what to say, or what to do, or... really anything. _Maybe we can get him to a private doctor — he can get fixed up, then no one will have to know about his injuries._ If it’s what Dexter wanted, and they somehow got caught, she could use that as her defense. _I need to talk to him about it, though._

Throwing her head over her shoulder, Deb strayed back inside the apartment, closing the door so Joey wouldn’t follow. She squinted through the darkness and heard clutter from her brother’s room. “Dex?” she called through the shadows, making her way through the hall. 

“Y- yeah?” a voice huffed. Deb turned the light on and her chest constricted when she saw the deep cuts and bruises scattered over Dexter’s exposed skin. He pulled a dark gray shirt over his battered body and winced through the brightness. 

“Hey,” she said softly, flopping on the bed. Deb watched him carefully as he examined himself in the mirror. “So, I think you should go find a private doctor to deal with your..” She waved her hands and Dexter looked back at her, completely emotionless. It seemed the same old mask had replaced the former terror. “Injuries. You know? Then I can tell LaGuerta we found you back here, and that you’re fine, at least for the most part-”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” he cut in, turning and returning to brushing back his hair, hissing when he picked away at a bloody scab. 

Deb stared at him, shocked. “Wait, really?”

Dexter shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It would be easier. I can take a few days off to heal-”

“Dexter, it might be _months_,” she said, crossing her arms.

Her brother scoffed. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Well you’d better have some patience, or have fun getting a full examination by Masuka!” She smirked, but Dexter didn’t show any hint of amusement. “Look, I... I just want you to be okay when you come back. And I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, but it’s either our people or a private doctor...”

Dex sighed softly, becoming quiet. “I’ll take care of it, Deb. Don’t worry about me.”

She stared at him and stood up, trudging to his side. Deb wrapped an arm around his shoulder and observed both of them in the mirror. “You know...” She frowned at the glazed-over look in his eyes, as if he’d witnessed horrors unimaginable to any human being. “I’m here, if you want to talk. About. You know, anything.”

Dexter shivered slightly in her grip and eventually nodded. “Thank- s,” he spluttered out, wrenching his body away. “I think I’m just gonna.... sleep. If that’s okay.”

Deb nodded quickly. “Okay. Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind, if you’re paranoid or anything about Chase’s people coming after you-”

“No, I’m fine.” Dexter slid into his bed. “I’m fine, Deb. Go home. And tell.... please tell Harrison that I love him.”


End file.
